


The Taste of Grief

by lattedi



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Death, Five Stages of Grief, Grieving Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Senses, did you hear about tommy?, i am so sorry..., if it's more angst its MORE ANGST, listen idc if tommy's alive., to a degree., yeah ....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lattedi/pseuds/lattedi
Summary: When Tubbo was in denial, it tasted like fake candy, an undertone of fear, and tears filled with salt and fatigue.ORTubbo is grieving, but it's described in all of the five senses.
Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

When Tubbo was in denial, it tasted like fake candy, an undertone of fear, and tears filled with salt and fatigue. 

As time went on, the taste got sour, bitter, black. it tasted of burnt toast, cotton, and orange.

He could feel it in his blood, the black goop, or how he imagined it, spreading throughout his limbs and pulling them up slowly, making hima puppet to his own feelings.

His eyes felt heavy, and his mind went faster than normal, telling him that someone caused this, someone helped Dream when he was in prison. He wanted revenge more than he had ever wanted it before. He wanted revenge and he wanted his best friend back.

Over time, the taste of sour, bitter orange turned into lemon candy, sour patch kids, melancholy, and desperation. 

Tubbo would do anything to get his Tommy back, he wanted the arrow on his compass to move more than anything in the world. He wished that he could trade his life for  
Tommy's, protect him, repay him for everything he's done.

Eventually, it became rain, peppermint, and plastic, with dark gray clouds of rolling fog filling his mind and the scent of rancid honey in the air. Tommy was gone, his Tommy was gone. He would never see him again, he would never hear his voice ring out over Snowchester. He would never get to say goodbye.

The taste didn't become bittersweet for a long time. When it did, it tasted of cotton candy, bread and cantaloupe, the flavors bursting in his mouth and in his mind. Sometimes the other tastes came back, but the acceptance was there to stay... until it wasn't, until it fell apart in his hands, unraveled like yarn, shattered like glass. 

It felt like liquid on his tongue, the tastes washing over him over and over again, spiraling and returning and disappearing again, rolling over itself and exploding in a burst of colors. It tasted like candy with a twist, a lollipop that had been put in a cupboard for far too long.

Was he dreaming? He couldn’t tell, but the explosions of emotions in his mouth every day made him hope so. It was so beautifully combined that it was torture, and he longed for it to be over.

There were some moments when the taste felt like a warm fireplace, welcoming, accepting, and real, and Tubbo embraced those moments. Other times the taste felt like an empty forest, chilling to the bone and lonely.

It was those moments where Tubbo wished that he would wake up the most, wanting the familiar bony hand of loneliness draped on his shoulder to go away, to stop being his only companion, for they only made him feel lonelier.

Sometimes, he sat on the bench that he had made for Tommy, the small memorial, and looked at the slowly growing flowers around him, plucked an allium from the soft dirt and ran his fingers gently along the soft lavender petals, and turned to give the flower to someone that wasn’t sitting with him anymore.

When he realized that there was only an empty space, he put the flower on the bench, got up, and walked away every time. Purple flowers collected in the spot Tommy would have been, some old and wilting, others fresh and free.

And Tubbo sat inside his home after being on the bench, tasting only bitter lime and caramel.


	2. Ranboo's Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo's version of the five stages of grief.

The tastes for Ranboo were different. Denial was short lived, tasted of fresh coconut soap, paint and grapefruit, felt like a warm bath, but the water was quickly getting colder, ice crawling on his skin and bubble breath in his lungs.

The anger was an explosion of cedarwood, rubber, and vinegar that ran down his throat and stung his skin, went down and down and clawed against the sides of his stomach, begging for freedom.

It was his fault, all his fault. He had never anticipated that something like this would happen, never thought that he would lose his first friend so soon. Guilt wracked at his brain, and he wished that he could go back to the moment when Tommy was leaving, he wished that he could grab his wrist and plead that he stays.

The taste faded into honey with a tinge of sadness, metal, and warm acid, burning the top of Ranboo's tongue and the inside of his mouth. He would do anything to bring Tommy back, see Tubbo happy again. he would travel to the end of the world to see his Tubbo's smile. 

He thought about asking Dream, begging him to make a deal with him to bring Tommy back, telling him he would do anything. He didn't care what it took, he just wanted to see his first friend grin at him, and he wanted to see Tubbo happy.

It seemed abrupt when the taste shifted, becoming watermelon, soft bread, and turkey that had been roasted for a thanksgiving dinner. It felt familiar and horrifyingly sad, reminding him of what he never had: a real home.

Tommy was gone. The first friend Ranboo had made, taken from the world with a gust of wind. He never got to tell Tommy that he was sorry for the unresolved conflicts they had had in the past, never got to thank him for always being there.

Slowly, the taste became raspberries, tart and flavorful, with a hint of dark chocolate and something oddly chemical. The pain faded more every day, until it didn't, until it came back in streaks of colors and thoughts, returning only to torment him.

Sometimes he sat in his home and resisted his own tears of regret, fearing that when they fell, it would hurt as much on the outside as it did on the inside, but he wanted to cry so badly, free the sadness looming in his chest.

He realized that grief felt like fire, but it wasn't fire. It was something numbing and gray, colorless, as though the venom had been sucked out of it and thrown away carelessly. 

His mouth filled with bursts of flavor, and they didn't work together; they made him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

Eventually, all of the tastes began to mix together, and he couldn't tell one emotion from the other. All he knew was that it still hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> hello besties, go follow my twt where this idea originated, lets be besties @ayupranboo_
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoyed <3 
> 
> stay safe! 
> 
> -coffee


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